


upon the palms of my hands (i have written your name)

by beanierose, holtzmanns



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, a’keria is here too but only via text, because we are what? soft, listen we got inspired by brooke’s live
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-10
Updated: 2019-07-10
Packaged: 2020-06-26 02:20:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19758598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beanierose/pseuds/beanierose, https://archiveofourown.org/users/holtzmanns/pseuds/holtzmanns
Summary: brooke has to get her wisdom teeth out. inspired by her live the other day and by a viral video from 2013. you’ll know the one.





	upon the palms of my hands (i have written your name)

**Author's Note:**

> **beanie:** nadia is my absolute most favourite person to bounce ideas off of, so it only makes sense to collab with her and i had SO MUCH FUN! she is smart, and funny, and so kind and encouraging and supportive. it was my absolute joy and pleasure to work with her and i hope you all enjoy this soft messy lesbian nonsense as much as we enjoyed writing it 
> 
> **nadia:** I love bean so much. Have I mentioned I love bean so much? Writing this with her was so fun and soft. I love the way she thinks and reading her words makes them flow from me way easier than normal too. Also we’ve known each other for like six years now so the fact that this is only the first time we’ve written together? Criminal. Please enjoy a highly medicated Brooke.

i will never forget you. see, upon the palms of my hands i have written your name

**isiah 49:16**

* * *

The nurses are looking at her funny.

Listen. It’s not her fault that she can’t sit down. She paces the waiting area in circles, hands jammed into her pockets so that no one will see how they’re trembling. There are a couple of other people waiting as well, though they paint a sharp contrast to her by sitting neatly in their chairs, flipping through back issues of Us Weekly and _not_ spiralling.

This is not how things usually go. Brooke is infallible, strong and steadfast and Vanessa - Vanessa is the vulnerable one. This diametric shift is making her a little crazy.

Her phone vibrates and she tugs it free, opens her messenger app. A’keria has been trying to keep her sane since the nurse took Brooke away from her.

_Bitch, you have got to calm down, it’s the fucking dentist._

She huffs a breath, even though she knows that A’keria is right. It’s a routine surgery that they do probably twenty five times a day. Nothing bad is going to happen.

Still.

 _what part ain’t you getting_ she texts back, with the emoji of the two eyes.

Whenever she is stressed or anxious - which is not that often these days - Brooke is the one who helps her, who sits with her on the bathroom floor and rests her hand at Vanessa’s sternum.

Now she’s anxious _because_ of Brooke. Precisely because she’s not here. She doesn’t know how to handle it, and it’s making her wear tracks into the problem pattern carpet.

_I know, I know, you’re a useless lesbian._

Vanessa rolls her eyes at the follow up text from A’keria, but it makes her crack a smile for the first time all morning. Brooke had been nervous before they came in, and grumpy because she hadn’t been allowed to eat. It felt like Vanessa had exhausted all of her reserves of calm for the next week trying to help Brooke keep it together, and now she has nothing left, an empty tank echoing in the pit of her stomach.

She lets herself fall back onto one of the uncomfortable waiting room chairs and slouches down into it like a child. She feels on the edge of a tantrum. If someone doesn’t let her see Brooke soon, so help her. Her fingers tap out an erratic rhythm on the arm of the chair, manifesting the anxiety that radiates from her in waves.

She’s about to ask the receptionist for the fifth time in the last ten minutes when they’ll be done, bracing herself for the inevitable answer of _they’ll call your name ma’am, just sit down_ , when the door to the offices opens.

“Anyone here for a Brooke Lynn Hytes?”

She nearly trips over her own feet in her haste to get up and get the doctor’s attention. “Me! Me.”

Perhaps her voice was louder than she intended it to be; the others in the waiting room all stare up at her from their magazines. She doesn’t care. She’s too busy trying to catch her breath and straightening out the wrinkles in her shirt as she stands.

“Come with me, ma’am.”

She follows him down a narrow hallway, past rooms with x-ray machines, dentist chairs, patients groaning over the sound of drilling. He leads her to a room at the end of the hall, lets her go in first. She stands on her tiptoes to peer past the nurses and finally, _finally_ sees her.

“Thank fucking God.” She can’t help the words falling from her mouth, but she tries to keep them quiet so that Brooke doesn’t hear.

Brooke, her sweet Brooke, turns her head towards the source of the noise. She’s smiling at her more dopily than that time they tried the edibles that Yvie ‘accidentally’ made too potent.

Seeing Brooke smiling, _happy_ (yes, maybe it’s from the drugs, but _still_ ) nearly makes her start crying from relief.

“Hi.”

Brooke’s brow furrows in the most adorable way and it makes Vanessa want to reach out and smooth it out. The words that leave her mouth are slurred and she has a lisp from the packs of gauze.

“Did the doctor send you?”

Her head lolls back against the chair and her eyes are a wheeling soft focus. She’s so cute. Vanessa had braided her hair for her this morning so it wouldn’t get in the way, and little wispy pieces begin to escape and frame her face.

There’s no blip of recognition when she looks at Vanessa. It stings a bit, but she’s been prepared for this. People react to anaesthesia in lots of different ways. It’s okay, she’ll sober up. And she’s still talking.

“Man, you are eye candy,” Brooke slurs. She blinks, seems to make a concentrated effort to open her eyes again. “Whoa. You’re the prettiest woman I’ve ever _seen_.”

The nurse at the back of the room snorts a laugh. Her back is to them, fussing with something on a tray - Brooke’s _teeth_? She can’t even think about that right now. She can feel her cheeks warm up, begin to turn pink, which is so stupid. Of course Brooke thinks she’s pretty. It’s not news.

“Are you a model?”

“No, honey.” Yes, thank you, she hears the softness in her own voice. It’s so tender, like how she and Brooke speak to their nieces and nephews. “I’m gon’ stay right here with you, Mamí.”

“Who _are_ you?” Brooke’s eyes are huge and round. She still can’t seem to lift her head, and the gauze on the left side is starting to fall out of her mouth.

“My name’s Vanessa,” she grins, can’t help herself. “I’m your wife.”

It’s like she’s hit her in the solar plexus. Brooke gasps loudly and rears upright from the shock of it, only laying back down again when both Vanessa and the nurse put their hands on her shoulders.

“You’re _my_ wife?”

“Yeah.”

“Holy shit!”

Part of Vanessa wishes she’d thought to record this, if only so she and Brooke can laugh about it in bed later. Once she’s home, and sober, and remembers their life together.

The nurse is laughing harder now, and Vanessa is trying very hard not to join her. She’s sure the last thing Brooke needs right now is for her wife to laugh in her face.

Vanessa settles herself awkwardly on the edge of the dentist chair so that she has a better angle to help Brooke resituate the gauze in her mouth. She’s a bit slobbery and gross, but still the most adorable thing Vanessa has ever seen.

“Damn,” Brooke slurs at her. “How long? Do we have kids?”

They’ve talked about it some, but it still seems like a faraway concept that applies to someone else. Probably best not to bombard Brooke with the details right now. “Not yet.”

Brooke whistles, or at least attempts to, but she can’t quite manage to form her numb lips into an O. “Oh man. Man.” She looks up at Vanessa, eyes wide in sudden concern. “Have we kissed yet?”

Trying to hold in a giggle feels like the hardest thing that Vanessa’s ever done. Much more than planning their wedding, much more than working up her courage the night that she planned to propose (only Brooke beat her to it and pulled out a ring first).

“Yes baby, we’ve kissed. Now shh, you gon’ make that gauze fall out.”

Brooke’s eyes light up as she lets out a little gasp. It makes Vanessa want to absolutely melt, as do the words that leave Brooke next. “We call each other baby? Can I call _you_ baby?”

Vanessa squeezes Brooke’s hand, watches as Brooke’s gaze slowly moves from her face to their intertwined fingers. “Sure, Mamí. You go ahead and call me whatever you like.”

Brooke lifts her head back up and smiles, really smiles, at that. It’s the kind that reaches her eyes and makes them all crinkly, even if her left side is a little more slack. “How long have we been married?”

Vanessa pauses. How can she respond to that? The real answer of three years doesn’t accurately reflect the years and years before that of dancing around each other, getting together, highs and lows that tested them both but made them so much stronger. “A looooong time.”

It seems fitting.

Brooke lifts a hand to her face, wearing an expression that still looks incredulous. Vanessa pushes her hand back down and onto her lap so that she doesn’t hit her mouth.

Brooke’s mouth is still slightly open as she stares at Vanessa in wonder. “Oh my God. I hit the jackpot.”

Vanessa reaches out and brushes back the little wisps of hair that are falling in front of Brooke’s face, tucks them behind her ear. Brooke leans into her touch, squints her eyes up at her.

“Let me see your face.” She’s so insistent, so indignant, that Vanessa grins widely. “Whoa, your teeth are perfect.”

“Thanks, baby,” she laughs. Brooke is still nuzzling into the palm of her hand, rubbing her nose against it.

God. She’s gonna have ammunition to tease her with for the next year. And she doubts Brooke will remember any of this, which just makes it even more fun.

“Can I see your ass?” The gasp Brooke lets out then is enough to dislodge her gauze, so her next words are muffled but Vanessa hears them. “Have I seen you _naked_?”

Her cheeks are warm again. Really, she should have expected it. Brooke’s highly drugged state is not a million miles away from drunk Brooke, who is overly affectionate and overly emotional and always just wants Vanessa to sit herself down right in her lap.

“Yes, baby, you’ve seen me naked. A bunch.”

“We’re married,” Brooke says again, like it isn’t computing. Like she has to keep saying it to make it true. “Wow.”

She circles her fingers around Vanessa’s wrist and plucks it away from her cheek to inspect it. She’s clumsy and oaf-like with the drugs, a thousand miles away from her usual grace, and Vanessa’s heart rolls over in tenderness.

“Did I get you that ring?” She smiles widely at Vanessa’s little nod in confirmation. “I must have been really liking you.”

They picked them out together, actually. Their wedding bands. She’s not wearing her engagement ring today because Nina had warned her she might need to put on latex gloves and help Brooke keep the damn gauze in her mouth, and she didn’t want to rip them. There’s a circle of paler skin on her finger above her wedding band, where it usually sits. She doesn’t like looking at it.

“Where’s mine?” Brooke pouts. She has her hand held out in front of her, fingers splayed.

“That’s your right hand.” Brooke pulls her left hand free to check, but her fingers are bare and she scowls up at Vanessa. “You had to take them off for the surgery, in case your fingers swelled. I got them right here, don’t worry.”

She takes them out of her pocket, tips them out of the little plastic baggie that the nurse had given her and into Brooke’s waiting palm. The face she makes when she sees them is slack with awe and she studies them for a long time.

“They’re beautiful. You’re beautiful.”

“Yeah, you said.”

Brooke tries to sit up again but doesn’t get very far with Vanessa right there blocking her. “Do you think I’m pretty?”

“Prettiest girl I ever saw in my whole life.”

That seems to placate her a bit and she lies back down. For the next ten minutes or so Vanessa sits at her hip and listens to her aimless babbling. She keeps saying _you’re my wife_ as if she can’t believe it.

Sometimes Vanessa wakes up in the pre-dawn and rolls over in bed to see Brooke, so beautiful in the grey light of the morning, and can hardly believe that she’s there next to her. So, she gets it. She does her best to reassure Brooke, tells her _yeah, I am_ with a soft voice and a gentle hand at her cheek.

Eventually, they get the all clear from the nurse that Brooke can go home. Vanessa accepts the extra packs of gauze and the pain meds, and helps Brooke to her feet.

“I’m _tired_ ,” she grumps. Somehow, right now, the whining is adorable. “Carry me.”

“I ain’t gonna carry you. You a lot bigger than me.”

Brooke completely ignores that and drapes herself over Vanessa’s back, arms around her shoulders. Vanessa giggles in spite of herself. She loves needy Brooke. She loves all the different Brookes, and is so grateful that she knows them, but needy Brooke is one of her favourites. It’s nice, to be wanted so badly.

“Baby, c’mon. You gotta work with me here.” She untangles herself from her wife and puts an arm around Brooke’s waist instead to keep her steady.

At the car, she gets Brooke into the passenger seat and comes around the other side, finds her with her phone pulled out. She seems to be taking selfies, and sure enough Vanessa’s own phone dings with a tweet alert and she cackles at the notification. Brooke is going to _die_ when she sobers up, but Vanessa is having too much fun to stop her.

“I want a Frosty. Can I have a Frosty. Please?”

“Sure.” She almost says _you can have whatever you want_ , but catches herself in time. Brooke is not allowed solid food today and if she goes and says something stupid like that then she’s never gonna hear the end of it. “You feelin’ okay?”

Brooke’s head lolls to the side to look at her. She’s backing out of the parking spot so she can’t really look at her properly, but when she manages a quick glance Brooke is smiling dopily. “I feel nice. Like sugar and spice.”

She starts singing something very soft and unintelligible to herself. Vanessa leaves her to it. She’s trying to focus on the road but she keeps turning to check every four seconds that Brooke isn’t bleeding, the gauze isn’t falling out of her mouth, she isn’t unconscious and choking to death and-

Okay. So maybe Vanessa is still a little wired.

Brooke cheers like a child when they pull up to the Wendy’s drive through, lunging across the car to try and lean out of Vanessa’s open window. Vanessa orders one of each Frosty flavour and asks for an extra cup, because Brooke’s favourite thing is to mix the chocolate and vanilla together.

Right now, she is in no state to fix it for herself. Vanessa pulls into a parking spot and spoons half of each flavour into the spare cup, hands the concoction over to Brooke. “Eat it slow, baby. Be careful.”

“You’re my wife,” Brooke says for probably the ninetieth time this afternoon. “But you’re not acting like it.”

Vanessa pauses. It’s the drugs. Brooke is loopy right now, she knows that. It still kinda sucks to hear. “What you mean?”

“You haven’t kissed me yet.”

She’s so petulant, but when she tries to pout a little ice cream escapes the corner of her mouth and slides down her chin. Vanessa cleans her off with a spare napkin. Now that she’s in close, she kisses Brooke’s cheek. She lets herself linger, because she misses her even though she’s right here.

It’s not so funny anymore. She wants her wife back. Hopes that the drugs wear off soon.

Vanessa’s quiet as she drives them home, peeking over at Brooke every couple of minutes, because yes, she needs to focus on the road but it’s _hard_. Brooke squints when the sunlight hits her face as she eats her ice cream, humming to herself, and so Vanessa pulls down the passenger seat’s sun visor to block the glare.

Brooke turns to her, adorably confused, when Vanessa pulls into their parking spot and shuts off the engine. “Why did you stop?”

“Because we’re home, is why.”

With that, she climbs out of the car and heads around to Brooke’s side. She almost falls out when Vanessa opens the door, the seatbelt catching her before she can. Vanessa unbuckles it and holds out a hand to her. Brooke grabs it in both of hers, Frosty cup left forgotten in the cup holder. Oh well. Vanessa will have to grab it later.

Brooke can hold herself up better and doesn’t need to lean on Vanessa so much anymore. It doesn’t stop her, though, from reaching out for her. Her hands tug on Vanessa’s sleeve and rake through her hair, and her face nuzzles into her neck.

She’s not sure if it’s loopy Brooke or regular Brooke standing behind her but it’s nice, even if her keys are at the absolute bottom of her bag and hard to reach. Brooke stretches out an arm into her bag and pulls them out triumphantly, holding them up as if they’re a trophy. Vanessa watches amusedly as she runs into trouble trying to open the door.

She gives Brooke around thirty seconds of trying to fit the key into the lock, watches as her face begins to fall when she can’t. She takes them from her.

“Let me.”

Brooke stares at her in wonder when she unlocks the door. Vanessa wastes no time in herding her inside, dropping the gauze and pain meds onto the entrance table beside her keys. Now they’re home the tendrils of anxiety that have been winding up her spine all day have started to wither and die back. At least they’re somewhere familiar, safe, where Brooke is less likely to get hurt.

She scoops up a blanket from their bed and grabs cushions from the floor that were no doubt punted off of the couch by one of the cats. Brooke has already situated herself on the couch, legs curled up underneath her. She pats the area beside her.

One part of Vanessa wants to keep fretting, looking for anything that Brooke may need (water, more ice cream, maybe make some soup, check if she needs her pain medication), but she’s also tired. She wasn’t the one to go under the knife today but her unnaturally tense state is beginning to catch up to her, an exhaustion that she feels in her bones. So, she sits down beside Brooke.

Brooke wastes no time in shuffling onto her side and dropping her head into Vanessa’s lap. Vanessa can feel her face begin to soften - this is something that Brooke does when she’s feeling particularly affectionate, or sleepy, wanting comfort in the form of her. She rakes her fingers through the flyaway hairs that are beginning to gather at Brooke’s temple, a repetitive motion that helps to soothe herself as well.

She watches as Brooke’s breaths grow deeper, chest rising and falling more slowly. She notices the way that the lines on Brooke’s face begin to smooth out as her eyes flutter under their closed lids. Brooke’s head is warm in her lap and it grounds her, pulling her back down from the journey that her spiralling today has taken her on.

Henry jumps onto the arm of the couch. Vanessa watches as he lightly pads across the cushions until he reaches her, lets out a small _meow_ as he stares up at her.

“Your mama’s out of it today. High as a kite.”

Henry only comes closer as a response, lifting a paw, then another as he settles himself onto her lap beside Brooke’s sleeping face. Vanessa tries to maneuver him so that he doesn’t accidentally wake her up. “Careful, you. Don’t squish your mama.”

She’s powerless to resist the urge to scratch under his chin, spurred on by the purrs that rumble from him almost immediately. She loves the cat, she really does. Vanessa never thought that she’d be the type to have a cat in her house, having grown up only with dogs, but ending up with a wife and two feline children? It’s a life that she loves.

Her free hand reaches for the remote and turns on the TV. She finds a Netflix show that she’s already seen, puts it on mute with subtitles so as not to wake Brooke up.

Brooke begins to stir around the third episode of _Brooklyn Nine-Nine_ , her hands fisting in Vanessa’s shirt and soft sighs leaving her as she squeezes her eyes tight.

“Ness. Ness.” Brooke’s eyes open.

“Yeah?” She can’t tell if the anaesthesia is still affecting her or not. Her name is a start - her nickname, the one that only Brooke uses and that continues to make her feel all soft inside no matter how long they’ve been together.

“Serious question.” Brooke’s voice is frank. “Did I get hit by a truck?”

Vanessa snorts at the serious expression that Brooke regards her with. “No. Just got your wisdom teeth out. You caused enough drama to make it feel like you fuckin’ did, though.”

“Ugh.” Brooke’s groan is muffled under her hands. “I don’t remember anything. Just the nasty laughing gas taste.”

Vanessa looks down at her incredulously. “Nothing at all?”

“Why are you asking like _that_? What did I do? Oh lord, I didn’t do anything embarrassing, did I?” Vanessa can’t help the giggle that escapes her lips. “Ness, stop laughing!”

“Oh, baby. You don’t know the half of it.” A chance to relay the ridiculousness of the last few hours? She’s going to enjoy it, damn it.

“Tell me.” Brooke practically begs, pouting up at her.

Vanessa nudges on Brooke’s shoulder to help her sit upright. It’s maybe a little mean to draw things out, but she deserves to have some fun with it. So, she busies herself in the kitchen, and comes back with a tray bearing pain medication, soup, an ice pack, a glass of water and a pudding cup.

She settles it in Brooke’s lap and nudges the pain pills towards her first, waits for her to swallow two of them down and chase them with water before she starts.

“Well, you forgot I existed.”

“I did not,” Brooke says, looking so wounded that Vanessa has to hold in a laugh. She wants to hold Brooke, make her feel better. Just for a second. But the teasing is more fun.

“You sure did. Asked me who I was and everything.”

Brooke groans and covers her eyes with one hand, looking like she would love to disappear into the couch cushions right now if she could. It feels good to have her back. She was hysterical all doped up and out of it, but the power imbalance was bothersome, seeing Brooke not be herself.

“I can’t believe I could ever forget you.”

“Was sorta cute, actually. Kinda like hearing your thoughts from when we first met.”

Brooke splays her fingers so she can peek at Vanessa through them. “What did I say?”

“That I was pretty. Asked me if I’m a model.” She waits a beat for it to sink in, lets Brooke think that’s the end of it before continuing. Grins. “Asked if you could see my ass.”

The groan that Brooke lets out comes right from the pit of her stomach as her mouth drops open. She tips forwards until her face is squished against Vanessa’s thigh and her hot breaths tickle her. “Oh my God. Ness, baby, I’m so sorry.”

Vanessa removes the elastics from the ends of Brooke’s two braids so she can card her fingers through her hair and arrange it against her shoulders. Her wife. She feels that same awe and disbelief every time she looks at Brooke. She hasn’t been doubting, not really, but it’s nice to have it confirmed.

“Ain’t gotta be sorry. It was sweet. To hear that you like me.”

“ _Obviously_ I like you.” Brooke struggles as she attempts to sit upright; she’s sobering up but she hasn’t regained all of her grace and decorum just yet. “I love you. Thank you for taking care of me today.”

Vanessa shoves her shoulder with her own. “Who else gonna do it? Nina?”

They both pause, aware that Nina would actually do a wonderful job and is both of their second choice if the other is unavailable. Still. The point stands.

Brooke isn’t slurring her words anymore, and the lopsided tilt to her mouth is starting to fade. Her cheeks are still puffy from the swelling and will probably stay that way for a few days. It’s kinda cute. Vanessa leans in to kiss her, two fingers at her cheek to keep her in place. She keeps it light, because Brooke is supposed to be resting.

“Love you too, Mamí. Now eat your soup.”

**Author's Note:**

> We can be found on tumblr at plastiquetiaras and katiehoughton. We’d love to know what you thought!


End file.
